Chapter Three
WE’RE BOTH QUIET as the red lights of the tow truck disappear into the night. I’m going to be carless for a few days, but I can walk to my office from my townhome, so I’ll survive. That’s why I love living in downtown Portland. So many places are walkable.
I face Ren. “Thanks again. For everything. It felt good to get that out of my system. I didn’t realize how much I was bottling up inside me. Thanks for listening.”
“No problem.” He nods. “The night is young. I’m in the mood for pancakes. How about you?”
Hold up. “You still want to spend time with me?”
“Sure. You made a few mistakes. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“A few mistakes?” That’s putting it lightly.
“Fine. Some major mistakes that could represent character flaws. But you recognize what you did was wrong. If you didn’t, then I’d be concerned. Besides, we’re human. We all make mistakes.”
Again, he leaves me speechless. A rare occasion. “Thank you.” It releases from my lips as a soft whisper. He’s rubbing off on me, making me want to speak quietly.
“Pancakes?” His smile is downright rakish.
“It’s nearly two in the morning.”
“The best time. What do you think?”
I study him for a moment. I only just met him, and he already knows I have major flaws. Yet he’s not running for the hills. Where is this leading? “What are you looking for tonight? Before this goes any further, I need to know.”
“Fair enough.” He points in the direction he did earlier. “I’m looking for my car.” He pats the pockets of his pants and his blazer. “I’m looking for my keys. I know they’re here somewhere. And Nemo. Been looking for him for a long, long time.”
I fold my arms and smirk. “Are you always like this?”
“If I say yes, will it turn you away?” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, a habit he does often.
“No, actually. I like being with someone who’s so happy.” Surely, he isn’t like this twenty-four seven, though.
“My mom used to call me a smart aleck. Does that answer your question?”
“I hate labels.” I don’t want to be labeled as a villain. No one should be pigeonholed. People can change. Do better.
“I do too. They’re so sticky.”
My hand hits my forehead, then I cover my eyes. I’m not sure how to respond to him.
“Hey,” he says in his smooth voice.
I let my hand fall to my side.
“Let’s make this simple. I’m looking for a friend. That’s all. Could you use another friend? I sure could.”
“Yes, of course.” More than he knows.
“I have a feeling you’re not ready for more anyway.”
He’s right. I’m not ready. But if I was, I think I’d be all about Ren. “Full disclosure here. I promised myself I’d wait one year before dating again. I need to keep that promise. My emotional well-being demands it.”
“I think that’s wise.” He holds up his hands. “This is the friend zone. Don’t overthink it, Bree. It’s just pancakes.”
The problem is, the very sight of his handsome face makes me overthink.
I felt an immediate and strong attraction to him from the moment he appeared at my tableside.
I could talk myself into falling right into his strong arms easily.
There’s this weird part of me that wants to throw caution to the wind, grab him by his lapels, and kiss his full lips.
I’d like to climb into his dark car and enjoy a make-out session, fog his windows.
That’s my rebound emotions talking. I’m vulnerable and very susceptible to his charms.
Fact is, I’ve known him for two seconds, and it’s too early to feel anything…and…and… He’s right, I’m overthinking this. Shut up, Bree. Go with the flow.
This gorgeous man standing in front of me, who just spent an hour listening to me go on and on, wants to be friends. That’s all.
I’m not sure if I should be happy or insulted. I choose happy. “Can I trust you, Ren Chambers?”
“Nope. Not for a second. Except with your life.”
I smile. Good answer. A friend is exactly what I need. Nothing more. “Feed me pancakes. Lots of them.”
A smile slowly spreads across his face. “Deal.”
We walk to his car, which is in the general direction he pointed toward earlier. Something in the air causes him to sneeze. I promptly tell him, “Shut up.” I guess I can roll in another direction. Maybe in many other directions. The thought is freeing.
“Fast learner.” He laughs aloud, and it echoes in the stillness of the night. The sound makes me feel happy.
He drives a BMW, an older version, but it’s been kept in pristine condition. He takes me to a mom-and-pop all-night diner where the smell of syrup and coffee hangs heavily in the air.
Ren shrugs. “Nothing fancy, but they have the best pancakes in town.” His phone dings, letting him know he has a text. “Excuse me.” A frown forms on his face as he reads it.
“Is everything okay?” And why is someone texting you at this hour?
“Yeah. No worries.”
“All right then, let’s load up on pancakes so we can regret it in an hour.” It feels like forever since my amazing dinner at Exodus. Now I’m ravenous.
He looks down at the menu and says under his breath, “I never regret pancakes.”
We’re both quiet as we study the menu and place our orders. I begin to wonder if this was a good idea. Maybe we have nothing to talk about, nothing in common.
We look across the table at each other. I can tell his mind is whirling as fast as mine is. Maybe he’s wondering what he’s doing here as much as I am.
He sits back in the booth, studying me. No, staring at me. I sort of want to squirm. But I don’t. I return his stare. I feel like we’re both absorbing each other, visually memorizing one another.
“Where’d you get the red hair?” he asks.
“My mother.”
“It’s beautiful. I love how long it is. Combined with blue eyes and porcelain skin, it’s stunning.”
“Thank you.” His dark hair and dark eyes are stunning too. But I don’t say it out loud.
A waitress passes by holding an order from another crazy person who wanted pancakes in the middle of the night. The smell of hot-off-the-grill pancakes wafts down on us.
“Okay, this was officially a good idea. That smell’s amazing.” I slip off my blazer. It feels like the heat of the grill is warming up the place.
“Right? I need to run a few extra miles tomorrow to work it off.”
“Me too. I’m doing five miles tomorrow.”
He cocks his head to one side. “You run?”
“Yep. Planning to do Hood to Coast in August. I’m trying to get myself in shape. I haven’t registered yet, though. I’m probably too late.”
Surprise is evident on his features. “Really? I’ve done it in the past.”
“A few friends from high school post about it often on their Facebook page. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.
I can’t imagine running all the way from Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood to Seaside, Oregon.
One hundred and ninety-six miles in total.
Thank goodness it’s a relay race and the members of each team take turns doing five miles or so, then hand off at exchange points.
Can you imagine? There’s no way anyone could do that on their own.
” I take a sip of water to stop my scared-of-nothing-to-say rambling. “Are you doing it this year?”
“I’m driving the van for my former team again this year.
I’ve done it for the last several years as well.
I sit on my butt behind the wheel, basking in the air conditioning and drinking ice-cold sodas from my cooler.
A much better gig, as far as I’m concerned.
” His smile says he’s found the best secret ever.
“Wait, you don’t want to compete?” He’s young and fit, perfect for the competition.
He shakes his head in the negative. “Not in the ‘Mother of All Relays,’ as it’s called. Not anymore. No way.”
“Why not?” I’m confused.
“I decided I like myself. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fantastic event. A little over a thousand teams participate and no doubt, excitement hangs in the air. It’s a great time. But it’s a lot of people and cars clogging the Oregon roadways. It gets a little crazy.”
I know what he means. “So I’ve heard. You’d think you’d be out there running with lots of people cheering you on and lots of runners right beside you the entire time.
But as everyone sets their own pace, I’ve heard you can find yourself running on a mountain highway all by yourself, rain or shine.
In the dark of night, with cars speeding past. That doesn’t sound so fun. ”
“I’ve been there. It’s a bit daunting.”
“Did you enjoy it?” I’m getting the idea he had not.
“Sure. It’s an adrenaline rush. It’s just not my thing anymore.
It’s nearly all uphill or downhill. Some runners barrel down the hills.
Then their quads are shot, and they can’t run on the next leg.
If it’s hot, runners drop like flies and often require IV fluids.
” He pats his chest. “It’s a risk this guy is no longer willing to take.
There are too many safety issues, and I’m not a spring chicken anymore.
According to my little sister, thirty-three is an old man. ”
“You have a year on me, and even I think you’re ancient.” My tongue has a lot in common with a razor.
He’s not bothered. “See, old-man status.”
On the contrary. He’s in his prime, and there’s nothing old-man about him. With his dark hair, dark eyes, height, build, and smooth-as-silk voice, he just might be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
But I get what he’s saying. There are risks involved in running in that type of race.
Isn’t taking risks what life is all about?
Just sitting in this restaurant with him is a huge risk for me.
Ren’s forearms lean on the table, his hands clasped. “You’re probably too late to join a team with Hood to Coast only being a month away. Why don’t you join me in the van? It’ll give you a chance to see what it’s like, help you decide if you want to do it next year.”
Our eyes meet. A lock of his hair falls on his forehead, making something in my chest stir.
It’s life. Feelings and emotions. They’re burgeoning inside of me, begging to be noticed, activated, and felt.